


The Artisr

by JackTheSoldier



Category: 18th Century CE RPF, American Revolution RPF, Hamilton - Miranda, Historical RPF
Genre: Daddy Issues, Excessive Drinking, Explicit Mentions To Sex/Incest/Racism/Religion/Others, Henry Laurens is a Bitch, Historically accurate appearances, John Makes Multiple References Against Religion and Racism, Kinda, M/M, Might make into a real full story might not, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sexual Content, Substance Abuse, john is depressed, multiple trigger warnings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2020-02-10 22:11:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18669367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackTheSoldier/pseuds/JackTheSoldier
Summary: John Laurens is a fast-moving Popstar titled as The Artisr. Alexander Hamilton is a reporter sent to interview Laurens. In a mess of events, John gains popularity and Alex is told to stay with him.





	1. Day One

**Author's Note:**

> A big thank you to westcoastatlanta for coming up with the idea and giving me permission to write about it. I plan on making this a longer story, but many different factors are keeping me from 1) making it long as I please and 2) making me update ever. 
> 
> This story is some unholy mashup of history and the Hamilton musical. (yep. we're dealing with a fucking lot of things in this book. Strap in, y'all). Just roll with it. I'm trying.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh. This is him.

Whatever Alexander thought he was going to find, this was not it. He had been told to meet the up and coming pop star John Laurens at a bar parking lot for an interview that his manager had set up, and when he was dropped off by his bright yellow cab and grabbed his small suitcase from the trunk, he did not expect to see a man with strawberry-blond hair helping another (honey) blond who was getting sick in the bushes outside. The parking lot was somewhat full, but an entire back row was taken by a run-down rental RV. He absolutely did not expect that this was the pop star he was coming to interview, but the picture he had been given was almost fitting. 

If this was the John Laurens that went under the alias of _The Artisr_ , then he was in for a rough ride. The blond man had the sides of his head shaved into an undercut and a few too many piercings (though many were just studs and not hoops, thank goodness). He had the tips of his blond hair dyed blue. From what Alex could see, he was dressed in nothing but tight jeans (which were clearly a little too tight as he doubled over and Alex was afraid that he would burst the seams) and rainbow shoes that looked like heelies, but he couldn't tell. He wasn't wearing a shirt or jacket and suddenly, the reporter felt uncomfortably overdressed. The redheaded man beside who he could only assume was John Laurens looked up and spotted Alex. He left the other's side to speedwalk over to him. 

And as a side note, he was very fluid and yet calculated in every way as he walked. He presented himself proudly and like he was the man in charge. This redhead with tan skin and dark freckles looked kind, though. He was smiling. Alex got a friendly vibe from him and his baggy hoodie that was clearly styled to look like the American Flag on the front and the French Flag on the back. He was wearing loose gray sweatpants, too. Hamilton, as a broke-living reporter himself, liked him already. 

"Alexander Hamilton?" He asked in a French accent. 

"That's me. It's a pleasure..." He paused to give this other man (who was a rough four inches taller than himself. Alex mentally groaned at the thought of working with taller people again. He was average height, he shouldn't be feeling so short all the time!) a chance to introduce himself. 

"Ah! I am Gilbert de Lafayette!" He shook Alex's hand and smiled brightly. The small number of freckles on his cheeks were more prominent when he smiled. 

Alexander was caught off guard by this. Lafayette didn't seem like John. He was dressed in baggy clothes and only had one piercing in his left ear lobe and it sparkled like it was some kind of diamond. His bright attitude is what threw him off though. Why was this man working with a wannabe popstar? Ridiculous. 

"I can see in your face you have questions," he said and smiled, starting to lead the redheaded reporter towards the RV that practically took up the entire back row of the parking lot. "I love my job, in fact. It is much more fun than it must look at the moment," Lafayette explained. 

"But why--" 

"I met _Jean_  when he was just beginning and with the funding, we began to work together! I do love the life we are living," he continued to walk and got back to the side of John. "We are badasses together! He has taught me so much and I'm very grateful. He is like a brother now." 

Alex noticed now that he hadn't buttoned his jeans and the thin boxers he wore were doing a terrible job at... their job. He felt his face flush in embarrassment for seeing him this way and knew that if this was normal than oh God in Heaven this was going to be a rough two days of interviews. His boss, George Washington, had told him to stay for two days and do three interviews with them at the start of their tour. He was already glad it'd only be two days. Based on what Washington had said, three other reporters couldn't stomach even one interview with John, but Alex was determined to take the job. They needed to know his origin story and have his information so that the world would know it as he became famous. He already had a fanbase, too. More information for people to get from them, pay for the ability to use the information, more money.... yadda yadda some more reporter stuff. 

" _Jean, mon ami saoul,_ the reporter is here and ready for an interview!" Lafayette patted him on the back encouragingly. 

John stood up to his full height and stood straight and tall and Alex felt his nervous heart pounding in his ears. _Distress!_ His brain screamed. _Distress! Don't embarrass yourself, you goddamn asexual biromantic bafoon. Abort mission! He's famous, and someone could do a way better job than you!_ He shook off the alarms in his head as he stuck his hand out to shake John's. Too late to turn back now. He would _not_ be a quitter. 

John took his hand and squeezed it before letting it go in a matter of seconds. _What the hell kind of handshake was that?_ But Alex didn't have to ask that aloud when he saw the glassy look in his bright blue eyes. John was clearly drunk or high and he had a smirk on his face that could pass as a normal smile. "Charmed. So you're Alex Hamilton?" He asked. Yes. Clearly drunk. That would explain why he was sick moments ago. 

"Yes, sir!" He nodded and puffed out his chest proudly, though he faltered a second later at the usage of a nickname. "Did you just call me Alex?" 

"Goddamn right I did," John said with a slurred voice and a southern accent peeping out around the edges. Alex felt certain anger or adrenaline fill his veins. He was definitely not taking any of this BS from someone. Nobody used nicknames for him, not even his closest friends. He wasn't even going to let some famous brat walk all over him. 

"I think you're mistaken, sir," he began but was cut off. 

John shook his head. "I am not! And stop callin' me 'sir'. I ain't no boss or dad or somethin'." He was still smirking. 

Alex knew this was going to be rough but he had to admit, John was surprisingly similar to him. Apparently, he also hated nicknames, even if it was formal instead of informal. "Alright then. What should I call you?" 

He knew immediately by the flicker in his eyes that he shouldn't've asked that. "Well, you could call me John or--" He was cut off before he could get too far ahead on himself by the hero that was Lafayette. 

" _Jean_! This is professional! It already not helps that you are drunk! Although it is better than when you are sober. At least now you will be honest," Lafayette mumbled and it was clearly not the first time John was this drunk. 

John nodded and waved it off. He took three steps towards the RV and then used the heelies he was wearing and rolled his way to its door. "Hurry up, Taffy, I want to get this over with. The sooner I can get this done the sooner I can drink more," he said and jumped up the steps, leaving this apparently French man and Alex outside. 

"I am sorry. He can be an asshole when he's drunk, but I hope you won't be upset. He means well, and I'm sure once he's sober again, he'll apologize," Lafayette sighed and looked embarrassed on John's behalf. 

Alex shook his head. "Don't apologize. You did nothing wrong," he said. Lafayette looked a little happier hearing this and Alex felt like his gaydar was going off. No, not in a sexual way, but he just had a feeling that there was more to Lafayette than there looked to be. He wasn't just some stage manager, Alex was sure. 

They walked inside of the surprisingly mostly clean RV. Two couches along the edges, two front seats, and Alex swore he could see bunk beds in the back. The largest area was just some mashup of a dining room, kitchen, and living space, but it was nice and homey. Alex could see why they lived here. It was nice except for the table, which was covered in shot glasses that needed to be washed. They had apparently been filled with whiskey or something strong based on the smell of the place. John was digging around in the back for something and Alex saw another man that didn't look like the average white guy wearing a rainbow sweatshirt. _Gay, perhaps_. The man stood up and smiled. 

"You're the reporter? Alexander, right? Or should I call you something else?" He extended his hand to Alex and gave it a firm shake. 

Alex genuinely smiled back at him and it almost took the other by surprise. "I'm Alexander Hamilton. Call me Alexander or Hamilton, whichever you prefer. It's a pleasure to meet you," he introduced himself. 

"I'm John Fitzgerald. Call me Fitz if you want," he said and looked happy to offer the nickname to him like it was exclusive to a few people only. 

"Fitz! Where's my Jack Daniel's!" John knocked something over as he shouted and it hit the floor with a thump. 

"John, I swear to GOD you are not drinking during an interview!" Fitz shouted back and John emerged with an empty bottle and a blanket. The bottle had its label torn off. 

"I cannot believe you poured out _my_ drinks," he scoffed and tossed the bottle into the trash and the blanket onto one of the couches. John flopped down a moment later face-down and practically screamed into the leather seat. Then he turned onto his side and looked up at Alex with a big smile as Alexander and Lafayette sat on the couch across from him. Fitzgerald sighed and went to go clean up whatever mess he'd made in the back room. 

"Okay. So, I have questions to ask and I'll write them all down on my computer," Alex began to explain and opened up a new document. "I want you to answer honestly because if you don't, then it's not legitimate information and we can't use it. Lafayette can be my witness and make sure you're not lying if it comes down to that. Are you ready?" A nod from John. "Okay. First question. What got you started in music?" 

He hummed for a moment and rolled onto his back and covered himself in the blanket. "My family I guess. I was forced into learning instruments but then I started playing songs on my own." 

Alex typed it all down quickly. "Okay. What kind of songs?" He looked up to see John clearly touching himself under the blanket and he looked frantically at Lafayette to tell him to stop. The Frenchman only shrugged and didn't look at all unnerved by this, like it happened all the time. Alex tried to focus on his document and answering some of the questions he'd been told to ask (and a few he added himself) so he wouldn't need to look at John. 

"I did a few oldies and stuff that I enjoyed. I played some like Eye of the Tiger and whatnot. I never considered writing one of my own and I put a few recordings of some songs out there and Laffy found them and encouraged me to start writing my own," John said and looked unusually casual. 

"Great. That brings me to the next one." He couldn't believe what was happening. No wonder the other reporters dropped out so early. "What inspires you to write your songs?" 

"I usually just fuck until the song comes to me." 

Alex faltered and stopped. "Excuse me?" 

"You heard me right," John glared at him. A nod from Lafayette was what finally convinced Alex to write it down. "Once I screwed four in one night and I was a writing machine the next day." Alex left that out. 

"And who encouraged you to go into this dream?" 

"It was never a dream. Damn, you think I wanted this shit? No. I never knew what to do with my life. When I was little I always wanted to be a biologist and study animals and shit, but then I got into music and Lafayette contacted me right as I was graduating a few years ago. My dad wanted me to be a lawyer. My brother wanted me to be an astronaut so I could go get moon rocks for him or something. My mom just told me to follow my passion. I guess she was the one who really encouraged me. My mom and my brother I guess," John glared darkly at Alex as he spoke. "I'm just going wherever there's a rainbow for me," he sighed and suddenly jumped up off the couch. "That'd be a good song!" 

Lafayette exhaled deeply through his nose. "Charming, isn't he?" He spoke in a light but a very tired and highly accented voice. 

"Yeah. Is that... Does that happen often?" Alex wrote down what had just occurred to explain why the interview was cut off so soon. 

"Only proof he said was true. He does this a lot. I suggest you make yourself comfortable and go to sleep. We'll drive you to the airport tomorrow," Lafayette sighed and got up, going to the other couch and folding it open into a bed. He started to fit it with sheets just as Alex heard music playing from the back. Not quite his style, but he wouldn't tell a musician how to play. 

"I don't intend to quit so soon, but thank you, Lafayette. Sleep well," Alex sighed and laid down in the foldout with his computer and began to type. 

Lafayette hummed and didn't leave yet. "I hope you say good things about _Jean_ to Washington. He has problems, but I want him to succeed. I hope you understand. I know little about this business, but I know the media will do well for him. I believe in him. Please do not be biased like the others," he said quietly and sounded almost pleading to Alexander. It broke his heart. The other reporters had apparently been biased in their reports in some way. Lafayette had undoubtedly had some connection to Washington to know this. 

"I won't say anything that isn't true," he said. Alex suddenly realized that he wanted to be honest about this stuff. 

" _Merci_. I thought that you might be different," he said thankfully. Lafayette stood at his full height and bid Alex a goodnight before he left to the back of the RV with the others. 

 

* * *

 

Alex was still up late into the night when John reappeared. It startled him for a moment and he slapped his computer screen shut. John was holding an acoustic guitar and walked to the front seat of the bus. The passenger seat. He strummed quietly and started to play. 

Only two verses in Alex realized he was singing in another language. He couldn't recognize it. Alex only spoke English and Hebrew, after all, so he was useless in translating the words. He quietly got up from his bed (which squeaked in response) and started to walk to the front. John didn't appear to care. He was dressed in just his boxers and a sleep shirt now, compared to Alex who was too uncomfortable to undress here and just slipped on some sweatpants and his hoodie. 

John paused, seemingly drawing a blank on what to sing next. 

"Wow. What language was that?" Alex asked and sat in the driver's seat. 

"Latin. A song I'm working on. Different from the rest. I'm not sure about it yet," John responded quietly and his words were rigid and not as slurred as before. His accent was nearly gone. 

"Couldn't sleep?" 

"Couldn't sleep." 

"I understand that," Alex sighed and rubbed at his eyes. Talking always did make him more tired. 

"I don't like you." 

"Why not?"

"You're real." 

Alex paused and wondered what he meant. "What?" 

"Don't act like you don't know. You're the first to actually stay with us through one interview. You're the first to not get swayed by my actions. You're the first to pretend interested in me. You're like the rest of us. You're real. You've got problems, too," John hushed his guitar and sat up straight in his seat. His eyes were cloudy. "You're on the LGBT spectrum, aren't you?" 

"Why do I need to tell you?" Alexander crossed his arms and looked bold. He wanted to look intimidating. John's expression didn't change. 

"Fair enough. You don't need to say anything," he looked away and went back to strumming lightly. 

"What's the song called?" Alex changed the subject. 

" _Dulce Et Decorum_." 

"English, please." 

"Nope. No. _No hablo ingles_." 

"Spanish? Really? Please just tell me and tell me in English!" 

" _Je ne parlerai pas anglais_ ," he shook his head. John was stubborn and sang his words as he played a tune on his guitar. 

"Is that French?" 

" _Si lo era_." 

"Please stop," Alexander was getting tired of this. 

"Fine fine. _Dulce Et Decorum_ means Sweet and Proper." 

Alex paused and remembered what he said earlier about his family and his 'dream'. "So you never wanted this?" 

John took a moment to respond. "I never wanted this. I never thought I was gay. I never thought I'd screw up my family the way I did. I never thought I could write things people would like. I guess life just works itself out some way or another. It just... I don't wanna say 'it be like that', but hell, it sure is. It just be like that, and sometimes you wanna just die, but you keep going. Something motivates you. I never wanted this. And yet, here I am," he sighed. 

Alex suddenly had an idea. "Can you play a song for me?" 

"Depends on what it is." 

"Sweet Caroline," he said. 

John shook his head. "Maybe later. You should go to bed. I'll keep playing up here unless I'm keeping you up. Sleep. Goodnight. See ya tomorrow." 

Alex got up and nodded in understanding. He started to walk back to his makeshift bed and put his computer away. John continued playing his song, singing and strumming quietly. He fell asleep like that. 

Day one was over, and the first is usually the hardest. 


	2. Day Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John, relax.

Alex woke to the sound of a clatter. It was only six minutes off of when he'd set his alarm, too, so it's not like he was woken up too early. He turned his head to see the source. 

There in the kitchen stood Fitz, looking down at John with a scowl. John was laughing and had clearly been dropped, and there was a bottle he was clutching tightly in his left hand. An orange pill bottle, Alex recognized. He wasn't sure what for, though. 

"You don't scare us this way, John! You know Lafayette gets uncomfortable with this kind of stuff! If this happens, we need to take you to the hospital!" Fitzgerald was yelling and didn't recognize that Alex was awake now. John didn't stop laughing. 

"What happened?" Alex sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. 

"John pretended to O.D. on us again. Stop doing that! It's not funny!" Fitz shouted again and John started to get to his feet and throw the bottle across the floor, skittering to a stop at Alex's bedside. It was marked in big letters 'OXYCODONE'. 

"Again?" Alex started to get up and make up his bed back into a couch. 

Lafayette emerged from the back room that Alex still hadn't seen. He was prepared for the day wearing baggy jeans and a hoodie again. The same hoodie. "John is not fun to deal with when he's hungover. He covers his pain with humor, I think. Thankfully, before we called the ambulance, I found all the pills dumped in a bowl in the bathroom," he explained and helped pull John to his feet. 

"So... This is normal?" He was concerned, to say the least, and John flopped onto the opposite couch, still laughing, but now he was crying, too. 

"Too normal. John! Strap in! We're going to Denny's!" Fitz snapped his fingers in front of his face. 

"Denny's can eat my ass," John responded and sat up. He looked like a mess. 

"Unlikely. They're a food chain. Alex, make sure he doesn't do anything stupid," Lafayette sighed and walked to the front seats with Fitzgerald. Fitz slid into the driver's seat and Lafayette sat in the passenger's. 

A button was pressed and the RV suddenly shrunk in size. The 'wings' that opened to give the place more room were closing and the entire place was much smaller. Alex was practically right next to John now. With the sound of two seatbelts clicking, the RV started up and they were off. Fitz was clearly a very careful driver. John got to his feet and stumbled away towards the back. 

"Come back! You're not supposed to stand while the bus is moving!" Alex objected, but John was gone. 

" _Monsieur_ , please go get him before he hurts himself," Lafayette asked and didn't get up himself. He was the navigator, telling Fitz where to go. 

"I'll be right back." 

Alex stumbled along behind John and through the bathroom that was separating the furthest room. The bathroom was a shower and sink and then a smaller bathroom with a toilet and another sink and a medicine cabinet. John wasn't digging through the medicine, thank goodness. He was laying on the bottom bunk of a rather cluttered bed on the left of the last room that was decorated in soft lights and fancy sheets, but there were empty bottles laying scattered across the bed as John dug around, searching for one that had some of something in it. The other two beds on the right side of the room (they were bunk beds, too) were made up somewhat nicely and had some lights, too. There was a ladder on the end of each bed and two towels draped on one of the ladders. A big American flag lay on the top bunk of the bed John was laying on. 

"What in the goddamn hell do you think you're doing?" Alex crossed his arms and stabilized himself as the bus turned right. 

"Looking for something to drink," John said as if it were obvious and found a bottle of Jack Daniel's. He opened it and then paused. "Oh, sorry, did you want some?" He politely offered the bottle to him and Alexander snatched it away. 

"I'm confiscating this!" He said and started towards the front again. 

"HEY! That's my last bottle!" The popstar objected and fell trying to get to his feet to chase him. Alex kept rushing forward and once he got to the front, he handed the bottle to Lafayette, who proceeded to roll down the window and dump it all out. 

" _Jean_ , cannot you be sober once! Please!" Lafayette tossed the bottle to his feet. 

"That's it! We're going to buy more!" John shouted and shoved Alex aside towards the couch. He landed on his side with a flop. 

" _Non_! We are going to Denny's! Sit down and shut up!" Lafayette raised his voice and it was clear nobody was going to say no this time. Nobody was going to do anything to upset him even more. 

John scowled and flopped down onto his spot. 

It was quiet maybe five minutes before someone spoke again. 

"Can we please just go get some more? Laffy, please? You know it makes me work better!" John whined from where he was sitting, or rather, laying, and Alex pulled out his phone to text Eliza, one of his closest friends, and tell her how things were going. 

Two Texts welcomed him as the conversation continued with Lafayette arguing why John should stay sober for a day or so (because apparently, he hadn't been for a while). Eliza was polite and checking in on him like she usually did, and then there was one from his boss, Washington. He opened that first, putting business ahead of friends. 

 _ **G. Washington:** How is it going? I haven't heard anything about wanting to leave like the others, so I'm assuming it's going alright._ 

Alexander typed a quick response. 

_**A. Hamilton:** It's okay. Hard, but I won't give up. _

He moved on to Eliza's convo. It was pleasant speaking to her and he was a little upset to have left her in Manhatten with her sisters. Not like she didn't enjoy her sisters, but sometimes, you need a break from people. Alex was the person she would go to when she needed a break. 

 _ **Betsy:** How is it? Is he as bad as I thought? Dont tell pegs because shes a big Artisr fan but I dont think many famous people are very nice._ 

_**Hammie:** I would never snitch on you. But honestly, he's kinda just a drunk. nothing too spectacular. haven't seen a concert but from what I've seen he's just like the others that are picked up on a whim. I've heard his songs. the only thing that sets him apart is that he fucks the music out of him _

He considered putting his phone back away until Eliza texted back almost immediately. John seemed interested in whatever he was doing because he was watching Alex type rapidly on his phone. Alexander pretended not to notice. 

 _ **Betsy:** so I was right_ 

_**Hammie:** No. maybe not. cannot prove it. maybe hes different _

_**Betsy:** doubtful _

Alex ditched that topic and slid his phone away. When he'd told Eliza he was taking the job for interviewing and reporting on John, she had shaken her head and said something about him being a bad influence. So far, though, John seemed at least somewhat respectful of others and himself. 

"Who're you texting? You got someone special?" The man across from him hummed. 

"I am single and it was just a friend. She's not someone I'd ever date. She's like a sister," Alex shook his head and tried to brush aside the fact that everything he was saying was true. Why couldn't he just shut up or lie? 

"Shame. You're a pretty boy. Shouldn't waste that," he huffed and looked away. John looked a little upset to not have any gossip. 

Alex blushed, though, but forced himself to steel his nerves before he went on. "Y'know when you asked me if I was LGBT? I am. Asexual biromantic, so lay off. I'll find someone my own damn self." There was an interested noise from the front seat. 

"Asexual? Doesn't that mean you don't have sex or whatever?" John looked confused. "How can you not like sex, Alex! It's like, the greatest thing ever!" 

Alexander had had this argument before and he was prepared. "Actually, I quite like sex. It's just that I'm not sexually attracted to anyone. That's what asexual means. Some people that are asexual might not have sex, but some of us do." 

John made an upset face. "You don't find anybody sexy? Not even me?" 

"Not even you." 

Lafayette made an 'ooh' from his seat. 

"Why don't you think I'm sexy?" John looked even more confused and upset. Alexander smiled pleasantly. 

"Honestly, John, it's because you smell like whiskey, body odor, and dirty laundry, and you made a terrible first impression. Maybe I'd find you appealing if you were sober and clean, but right now, you're just another someone I've been sent to interview," Alex said and glanced to the front seats to see two bright and amused expressions. 

John sulked in his seat until they pulled into Denny's parking lot and took up another back row all to themselves. They all started to walk inside (with the exception of John, who kept tripping) and took a spot in the corner. After ordering, Alex whipped out his computer to do his second interview. He had come prepared. 

"What in the goddamn hell are you planning?" John asked after sipping his coffee that was mostly cream and sugar. 

"Second interview. Okay. Ready?" Alex prepared his document and smiled after he had his own first sip. "And please refrain from saying that. It's mildly offensive to me." 

"What? Are you religious?" John looked surprised for the umpteenth time that day. 

"Yes, as a matter of fact. Jewish. So please, watch yourself. Of course, I understand if old habits die hard," he said and drank more coffee. His words seemed to make John a little soberer. 

"No, no, of course. I'll stop. Sorry," he mumbled and looked anywhere but at Alex. 

"Okay? What inspired your name? Or your alias, whichever sounds better. _Artisr_ , right?" 

" _The_ Art-is-er," John corrected his pronunciation. "I originally meant for it to be _The Artist_ , but I guess I misspelled it when I sent Lafayette an email or something, so it kinda stuck. He really liked it and I realized it was kinda poetic, so I kept it." 

"A grammar error became your stage name?" Alex tilted his head to the side. 

"Not just his stage name. His bed name. Some of the girls or whoever he brings around don't even know his real name. Sometimes at night, you'll hear them calling that name at the top of their lungs and you can tell exactly what's going on. Jacky here has quite a good time some nights," Fitz boldly jumped in and Alex couldn't help but type down _that_ story. 

"Fitz, y'know I said not to call me Jack!" John whined. 

Fitzgerald tilted his head back and in a high-pitched voice he let out an erotic cry, "OH _ARTISR_! TAKE ME PLEASE!" 

John flushed and that got him to shut up, the employees and customers to look confusedly at them, and Lafayette and Alex to start laughing. No more words were exchanged until their laughter had died down and Alexander moved on to the next question. "Okay, next... Who would you say you rely on most during work? That brings me to ask what Fitz and Lafayette do." 

"Easy question. I rely a lot on Lafayette. After all, he's charismatic, lovable, and he's got a ton of connections. He's my manager and he tells me what to do, when, where, why... He's the best manager any popstar could ask for." The mild speech was met with a joyful squeal from the redheaded Frenchman. 

"Really? I mean that much to you?" He looked very emotional. 

"Of course, Laffy, you got me started on this rollercoaster. I wouldn't be anywhere near where I am today without your help." 

"I need a moment. Please carry on," Lafayette excused and John smiled pleasantly to himself. He was clearly sobering up for now, and his honesty was clear. 

"As for J Fitz, he's like my bodyguard slash driver slash paramedic," John shrugged casually at the mention of the last part. "He does a totally different job, but I keep him around because I can count on him a lot, too. He's the strongest guy I know. He's a best friend." 

"Paramedic!?" Alex was now even more concerned then he had been when they were in the RV earlier that morning. His coffee had finally woken him up all the way and he realized how serious that prank had been. 

"Yep. Mister _Artisr_ here always finds a way to end up in the hospital. Either by alcohol poisoning, overdosing, getting himself knocked out, blacking out, passing out, dehydrating... All of those have happened. Thank our lucky stars we make enough money to more than cover insurance that'll take care of him," Fitz sighed and didn't look too pleased anymore. 

"Wha-- Why do you let him do all that stuff then if he keeps overdosing and over-drinking!?" Alex had stopped typing to focus on the conversation at hand. 

Lafayette was the on to speak up this time. "We'd rather him overdose and have someone with him so he gets cared for than him doing it alone and... well, not making it. Better to have him sick than dead." It was a very honest, serious, heartfelt confession. 

Alex was stunned and the waitress they had delivered their food moments later. After a few minutes, Alexander closed his computer after adding all that and put it in his lap. He began to eat. By the time John was finished with his waffles and everyone else was ready to go, the thought had settled with Alex. Lafayette and Fitzgerald weren't just staying with John because they wanted to. They stayed and encouraged him on because they had to. John would most likely fire them if they made him stop, so they didn't and stayed and when he got hurt, they called an ambulance. They stayed because they were afraid of what might happen if they left. The idea almost sickened Alexander. 

"Have a good day, rockstar~" The waitress made a gesture with her hand that symbolized a phone as they left. Alex realized she must've left her number on the bill. 

They got back to the RV and Alex felt it was safe to ask. "Are you ever gonna call her back? Do you call anybody back?" 

"Only Martha and she was the one that got away. Well, that's not true..." John shrugged and grabbed his acoustic guitar. It seemed he always had an instrument with him and he didn't know why. They started in motion again with everyone back where they'd been sitting before. "There was Francis, my high school dreamboat boy, but he knew exactly what he wanted to do with his life. 'e wanted to go to this place in Geneva, Switzerland or something, become a lawyer, buy a place in Charleston, get married, have kids... and I didn't even know what I wanted to do during summer breaks. So we got upset at our differences and set on our separate ways. Haven't seen him in years." 

Alexander hummed and opened his computer again to type down 'Francis: Old BF' in the notes he'd decided he'd start to write about John. He added a few more before John started another story. He sang this one. 

"Martha. Where do I begin about Martha? She was the girl that I was sure was gonna be the one. She wanted to be a nurse and I wanted to do something with medicine or something too, so we bonded over that and then one night we kissed and there were fireworks!" John paused. "I learned all about safe sex and self-love before I wanted to touch her because I wanted to be safe. I got tested, I was fine, and she got tested, and she was fine, so we had sex. I realized after that first time with her that there's a big difference between having sex and making love. I continued going out with her..." 

Alex paused. "Why? If you didn't love her, then..." 

"She thought she was pregnant. I guess she thought the condom broke or something, but she said she thought she was pregnant and I didn't want to leave her like that, so I stayed. I had told her I was uncomfortable but I stayed. It wasn't until the third month when we were at her place I saw she was on her period and I realized she'd been lying that whole time. I broke up that night," John mumbled and his guitar was silent. The only sound that remained was the hum of the engine of the RV bus. 

"She was the one that got away?" 

"I thought my dear girl was the one! She was so sweet and honest and I never thought she would lie like that to keep me around! I thought I loved her and she was my first _real_ time, so... y'know. I thought... I don't know. Things felt new and exciting with her. I learned all that stuff about how to be safe about it and then I actually decided 'yeah, I'm gonna show her how much I love her' and then in the middle of it I realize that I don't really love her. I told her I was uncomfortable and she _lied_ to me." 

"Dear Girl? Isn't that one of your songs?" Alex typed in the words and sure enough, up popped an awful youtube-made lyric video of John's song _Dear Girl_. 

"Yep. I wrote it about her. My dad called my mom Dear Girl when I was still little, so I called Martha that, and then when I was drunk one night she texted me and I decided to write a song about everything. You wouldn't believe how screwed I felt when I wrote that song. It was everything Laffy could do to take my phone away to keep from calling her." 

"I saved your skin! You would've made a fool of yourself! You say in the song yourself that people deserve to be loved, not fucked," Lafayette added from the front seat. "You wouldn't have loved her if you went back to her. She deserves to find her own someone to love her. You clearly weren't the one." 

John sighed and nodded. "Hey Laffy, is there a sunflower field near here?" 

"On the way to Atlanta? I'm sure there is if we look hard enough. Are you in one of those moods again?" Lafayette sighed and turned around in his seat, only to be scolded by Fitzgerald to sit down straight and he did. 

"Yeah. I wanna just, y'know, walk around in flowers taller than I am." 

"He does this often?" Alexander wondered what this story was. 

"John loves flowers of all kinds, but his favorite color is yellow and he likes sunflowers more than any other out there. Whenever we have a chance, we make a detour to go to a sunflower field so John can see them. It's always very nice to be in the sun and nature like that. It's very humbling, too," Lafayette graciously told him the backstory. "His first album was called _Sunflowers_." 

Alexander typed 'sunflowers album artisr' into his search bar on Google to find it. _SUNFL0WERS by The Artisr_ on Amazon Music was the first result. The second was the images option which was full of the album cover art and pictures of a silhouette of John next to bright, all-too-real sunflower pictures. It was a striking, interesting difference that drew attention to John's figure in the center which looked deep and hollow and then around him were bright, colorful, gorgeous flowers that took your attention away. Clearly, a specific artist was to blame for this. It was such a magnificent, perfect, pleasing design... 

"I did my own cover art." 

Alex looked up to see John's face which held an honest expression. 

"Lafayette took a picture of me in a sunflower field one day and when the time came to make the cover, I took that picture and photoshopped a black space over myself, and he loved it," John said and didn't look surprised to see Alex's shocked expression. 

"Artist and songwriter and singer!?" 

"Damn straight." 

"You definitely aren't that," Lafayette shouted from the front. 

 

* * *

 

 The night they arrived in Atlanta was supposed to be Alex's last interview. The day before John's first big performance to kick off his tour. He was supposed to buy tickets at the airport as soon as he arrived to get the soonest flight back to New York and his job would be done. A day of stopping at gas stations and having horribly unhealthy foods, frolicking in sunflowers fields, and watching John slowly find enough alcohol on the bus to get himself drunk again had its toll on Alexander. He was ready to go home. 

_**G. Washington:** Still going well? _

_**A. Hamilton:** Yes sir. Ready to go home, though. _

He sighed and listened to John and Fitz scream-sing a duet to some Bruno Mars song on the radio. 

_**G. Washington:** That's unfortunate. I'm going to need you to stay with them through their entire tour. I got word that there's going to be more new songs and a lot of a story to cover and I want to be the first ones to any breakthroughs. Since you work so well with him, you'll stay and follow his case. I've told Eliza to pack some of your stuff and take a leave and visit you at your stop in Houston. _

What. 

This man could not be serious. There was no way he was going to go through two more months of this traveling the United States with this 'popstar'. 

_**A. Hamilton:** You've got to be joking sir. Did Thomas steal your phone again? _

_**G. Washington:** No. This is an official decision. If you ever want to bail or take a break, though, Thomas Jefferson is more than willing to give this a swing himself. _

_**A. Hamilton:** No sir. I'm your man. I'll stay. Thank you. _

He was staying. 

Lafayette cheered from his spot as he got a text, too, and Fitz turned down the radio so they could hear whatever happy thing he had to say. "Alexander will be staying our entire tour! Washington said there is much more they wish to uncover about John and therefore Alexander will be reporting on him until our last concert in D.C.!" 

John let out a cheer from his drunken state. Fitz just smiled and kept driving. 

Meanwhile, Alexander sat in the back, brooding and feeling uncomfortable. All he had was three pairs of clothes, his computer, its charger, his phone, its charger, and his hygiene products (including contacts and glasses). He was in no way prepared for this. He hated this idea. But he was determined to stay and do as he was told. 

 _I, Alexander Rachel Hamilton, still will_ not _in_ any _way give up._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments! I love hearing from you all. :)


	3. Prepare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex gets to see John prepare for action.

"I feel on top of shit, get up on this, all you muthafuckin' asses get into it! Fuck all the shit! Do whatever you want and it's showtime, Bitch!" 

Alexander's eyes shot open to the sound of loud shouting and overenthusiastic giggling. He grabbed his glasses from the armrest of the couch he had passed out of last night and looked up to see the source of the noise: a drunk John Laurens and a drunk Gilbert de Lafayette. John's undercut had been slicked back with water or god forbid some other liquid or gel. The bus was stopped and Alex wasn't sure where Fitz had gone off to. All he knew was that this pair was being too loud. 

"Fuck, can't you two let a man sleep?" Alex groaned and the two of them smiled to see him awake. 

"Look, Taffy, Pretty Boy is awake! The beautiful reporter from the big city, talking us down for having fun and waking his poor self up," John cooed and took another swig of some unlabeled... mason jar? A clear liquid in an unlabeled mason jar with a hole in its tin lid for drinking out of. 

"What the fuck have you two had?" Alex sat up and glared at them. 

"Moonshine!" They replied at the same time. 

"What the fuck is moonshine?" 

"Alexander! You should try it! It's crazy! It'll fuck your shit all the way up," John advised and shoved the jar in his face. His accent was strong and Alex could hardly hear what he was trying to say. 

" _Jean, peut-être pas une meilleure idée. Il pourrait être une putain d'alcool vierge!_ " Lafayette objected from his place and looked on the verge of passing out. He was still wearing his baggy jeans from the previous day, but... he had no shirt. Alexander could see now scars on his chest. He'd had top surgery. 

Lafayette was a transgender man. 

"Taffy, he's surely had some. If he hasn't, that'll change soon," John said and stumbled his way to their bathroom to throw up as Lafayette laughed and began to ebb off to sleep on the couch across from Alex. 

Meanwhile, the redheaded man grabbed his computer and sat down at their crude little table and prepared to film a live vlog for Instagram. Usually, he would tell his followers who he was going to be with and where, and then when he got there (depending on how long he was with said person) he would film a vlog and tell his followers what was up. Now, he had to tell them that he was staying with John Laurens, _The Artisr_ , for quite a while. The tour they planned to take was nationwide from Atlanta, Georgia through the south then up the Californian coastline, Portland, Oregon, Seattle, Washington, then across the northernmost states, Chicago, Illinois, the larger cities of New England, and then down the east coast to Washington, D.C. in Virginia. It was going to be a long time, Alex could tell. 

The vlog began and Alex smiled brightly as he already saw some of the viewers' icons appear. He had his own fair fanbase too, he must admit. Not nearly like John, but he had fans. 

"Hello, everyone! You know it's me, Alexander, here again. So I know I said it was going to be three days I'd be interviewing him, but my time got pushed out. I'm now going to be accompanying John and his crew throughout their entire American tour, all the way back to New York and then to D.C.," Alex explained and watched some of the comments come through. 

There was a noise in the background Alexander knew had to be John knocking something over in the background. 

Alex saw a comment asking about it. "Someone just asked 'is that The Artisr in the background'? Yes, it is. That's John, and he's kinda drunk right now, but I'm sure we've all been there. He... Hey, John." 

John suddenly plopped himself down right next to Alexander, a full bottle of water in his hand and a glassy and tired look to his eyes. "Hey, Pretty." 

"John, I have a video going right now," he mumbled to the southern man before him. 

He smiled. "Oh? And who are the lovelies watching?" He cooed and slid a little too close to Alex for comfort. He shifted the computer to get John in the frame. The comments were going crazy. The viewer count was through the roof. People were suddenly rushing to Alex's vlog now that John was there. He'd never seen these kinds of numbers before. 

"They're just my followers. I like to give them updates on what I'm doing," Alex said. John's face was too close. He smelled too drunk. He was too hot. What? No. He wasn't. It was the moonshine breath that made him think that. "You're a little too close there, J." He schooled his expression into a neutral but stern look. 

John faced him so that their noses were practically touching. "Oh?" He was smirking again, and not the same way he had before. This was new and oh, god... Alex dropped his expression and tried to frown instead of looking embarrassed and intimidated. "Are you not used to having someone so close?" John's left hand tapped his cheek and his right hovered over his thigh. God, too close! Too close! No! 

"J, stop it." 

"Aw, he calls me J. Alexander, haven't you ever wondered what it's like to kiss a celebrity? A star?" John tilted his head just slightly and Alex felt all his will to resist melt away. "Haven't you ever wondered, what would it be like to touch..." He stopped talking and slipped his hand over Alexander's crotch without warning. He pushed the redhead to the wall, thankfully out of the frame of the vlog, and kissed. It was hard and so, so lustful...

Wrong. Sex is different than making love. Push him away. Tell him no. He'd understand no. He's drunk right now. He's foggy-headed and... 

Alexander gasped and just as John was trying to push his way into his pants, he shoved him away. He rushed to turn the computer off, quickly posting an apology and saying 'sorry! John gets this way when drunk! Gotta deal with him real quick!'. He couldn't let John do this. 

"Oh, you didn't want to give some kids a nice lil show? Somebody would've gotten off to it, I know. I do respect the privacy, though," John said and leaned closer. Alex held him away with one arm. John took the hint. "Oh." 

"Thank you. I'm flattered. I just don't feel comfortable doing this when you're drunk," he said. Alex suddenly realized what he said. Would John take that to mean he would eventually want to? Oh, God... 

"Good morning, dear," John hummed and kissed Alex's cheek. He slipped away and walked toward his bunk. Alex was left to silence and the overly sweet smell of cherries and moonshine. 

 

* * *

 

 

John was nearly sober again. He was sitting patiently, politely, letting his makeup artist do his makeup for the show which began soon. He wasn't quite dressed in the full suit he intended to wear yet, but that was fair, what with the people working on him. Alex was quietly watching and taking pictures behind him. 

Fitz was standing in the doorway, watching it all patiently. John said he didn't mind the door to his dressing room being open right now. Someone suddenly came stumbling down the hall and right into the brunet man. He had sandy blond hair swept back to stay out of his face and he was surprisingly short. 

"Apologies!" He stuttered and flushed a pink tone. "I'm so sorry for running into you! I'm just in a rush! I'm looking for _The Artisr_?" He said all too quickly, and Alexander recognized the sound of a specifically Jerseyan accent in this man's voice. 

Fitz couldn't respond. He was staring at this blond stranger and Alex saw an all too smitten blush creep onto his face. 

"You said _The Artisr_?" Alexander asked and got a better look at him. He was dressed in jorts and a crop top with a pink Aeropostale jacket draped over his shoulders. He held a camera around his neck with care. A photographer. 

"Yessir! I'm Tench Tilghman, a photographer for the Times in New York! They sent me to get pictures for an article on the rockstar!" He introduced and reached out to shake his hand. 

"Perfect! I'm Alexander Hamilton, and I work with the Times as a reporter! I could be gathering the information you need right now," he laughed and shook Tench's hand. He was pleased to not be the shortest anymore, seeing as Tench was roughly three inches shorter. A solid five foot and four inches, he'd guess. 

"Thank God! I was told you might be here but I was scared and it's wonderful to finally meet you!" Tench cried and smiled brightly at the redhead. 

"Finally?" 

"Well, yeah! I follow a lot of your vlogs when I can. I want to travel like you and meet celebrities, so I graduated from college and became a photographer and here I am!" 

"Wow... Thank you," Alex was speechless but still smiling. He turned to look at Fitz. "Oh! This is John Fitzgerald, John's driver and just overall, a helper," he introduced and let the pair of them shake hands. He could already see it was love at first sight. 

As he stepped back, he could already see it. The couple walking hand-in-hand down the street, all smiles and jokes, and little kisses here and there. Alex wished he had such a relationship. He imagined Tench's small figure being lifted up for piggy-back rides on Fitz (who was a good bit taller than him) and running through New York City laughing together. 

"John, you have a visitor," Alex said and saw two of the women working on him to get him ready prepare to leave. 

"Perfect! I'm just about to get dressed. Can you keep him entertained until I'm ready?" He asked and grabbed a tank top from the rack of clothes to put on (very carefully so not to disturb his hair and makeup). 

"Sure," Alex agreed and went back to the door to see Fitz entertaining Tench quite well with a conversation about how neat technology was or something like that. 

Alex realized what he was doing. Complimenting his camera, his interests, his style... It all clicked when Fitz asked, "so because tech is so neat nowadays, maybe I could give you a call sometime and we can keep in touch easier than people used to be able to." 

Tench giggled and nodded, clearly flattered by the way Fitz had asked. 

They exchanged numbers before Alex's eyes. By then, John was ready. 

"Aighty then!" He declared. John was wearing a tank top and a leather jacket. His jeans were the same tight pair he had worn just the other night, and on top of that, boots. Black, knee-high, gold strapped, leather boots. They were pointed at the end and added another inch to his height. On top of all this, John was wearing makeup that complimented his best features and his hair was swept back neatly. He was the one Alex wanted to kiss, even if it _was_  wrong. He suddenly wondered if he really was asexual or maybe it was just John. _Fuck_. "So who's this visitor?" 

"Tench Tilghman, sir!" Tench perked up and quickly shook John's hand. "You're _The Artisr_! You look amazing!" 

John was surprised but smiled. "Thank you." 

"Do you mind if I take pictures of you? I'm with the _New York Times_ and I'm taking pictures for an article about you!" 

"I don't mind." 

"Thank you!" 

"Showtime in thirty, _Jean_!" Lafayette called out from outside the dressing room. 

"Showtime," John repeated. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment! I love to hear what you have to say, whether it be constructive criticism, encouragement, ideas, or just a simple message like if you did or didn't enjoy the chapter. :) 
> 
> Thank you for reading, lovelies!


	4. All Of The Lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lights go up and the show goes on in Atlanta.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout-out to @seoyoff! Because of their comment, I felt motivated to post a new chapter, which I haven't felt compelled to do in a long, long time. It's been a few months since my last update, and knowing that there are still those of you interested in the story and willing to see the progress, I want to go on. 
> 
> So thank you, @seoyoff! And those of you who also comment: Thank you. You make me want to write and go on. 
> 
> *A note: This story is entirely fictional. Historically, Tilghman was 32 when John was ~24. In my story, John is ~24 when Tench is 21. This was written to make Tench a younger, more relatable character for the story's sake. Please research to learn more if you're interested*
> 
> Please enjoy this chapter. I'll keep working on more updates as time goes on.

He chugged the bottle in under thirty seconds, much to the amusement of Tench, who had promised not to keep any unflattering pictures of John that he would capture. The champagne sizzled in his throat and he dumped the bottle in the trash as he headed to the side of the stage to get his guitar. 

His deep blue guitar that was connected to an amp, not his personal acoustic guitar. His guitar which rippled through a stadium when he played it. The one that made the crowds go crazy. The one he'd recorded 'Rain Bows' with. The one he strummed to check to see if it would work. 

It did. He heard the cheers after one simple note and blew out an unsteady breath. The tech team finished placing his mic on his face and sped off as Lafayette shot him a thumbs up from across the stage. Three fingers, two fingers, one finger, and a hesitant step forward. 

That one step helped him let go. For a moment, John was weightless. 

He was hovering in the darkness of the stage with his heart still and his breathing hushed. 

The cheers sounded like static. 

The darkness, the static, and the weightlessness were all very reminiscent of how he often felt. 

The depression melted away with the lights that came upon him full force with his first note. 

He gained weight. He saw the crowd. He opened his mouth. He began to sing. 

"If I could only be a Sunflower." 

 

* * *

 

He was out of breath, nearly sick on the stage, and as the lights went down, he heard cheers for an encore. 

"Not today, everyone!" He huffed out in a surprisingly stable voice. "Maybe another time!" 

The crowd awwed disappointedly, but as John got back to his feet and stumbled to the side of the stage, he couldn't bring himself to care. The sweat on his face and body was surely damaging his makeup, and as he jumped down the stairs and to the nearest trashcan, he vomited. He could care less. He had looked far worse. No hair was in his face right now, and he wasn't crying, so all was well. He would be fine. 

" _Jean_!" Lafayette called. " _Jean_! Very well! Beautiful performance! You deserve every rest you need to take!" He cheerily said and tried to pull him away from the trashcan, but John swatted his hands away. 

"Is he alright?" Tench asked hesitantly from where he stood a few feet away. 

"Ah. Sick. He often gets this way. Feel glad it was not on stage this time," Lafayette said quietly. 

"Oh. So he'll be okay?" 

" _Oui_." 

"John, I took some good pictures if you'd like to see them and approve for me to send them to the _Times_. I would like your permission first, just in case," Tench said. It sounded very unsure and once John was confident in his stomach's ability to hold down anything that was left, he looked up at the man, or more like boy, who was closer now and unassuredly smiling at the pop star. 

"Lemme get cleaned up first. I'm sure they're all good. You said you wouldn't keep unflattering ones and I trust that. Thanks, kid," John groaned and started his way to his dressing room. 

" _Jean_ , you have a VIP party in thirty." 

He stopped in his tracks and turned around to look at Lafayette, eyesight a bit blurred around the edges and head feeling fuzzy. He glared at him and made a face. "How many?" 

Lafayette looked down at the clipboard in his hands. "Ah, eleven VIPs. The local radio gave out the tickets as a promo for you. Four men and seven ladies." 

John scowled. "Turn 'em down." He spun around and kept walking. 

Lafayette made an offended noise from where he stood and sped to catch up. "You cannot do that! Three of them paid good money for those passes!" 

"Then let _them_ in. Turn the rest down." 

Lafayette squealed. "WHY!?" 

John stopped right outside his dressing room and stepped over the threshold. "I'm not in the mood for visitors, Laf. Turn the others away and I _might_ let the others meet me. Tench, come on in, but _you_ , stay out!" 

He slammed the door in Lafayette's face once Tench was inside, and the Frenchman was left in shock. Sure, John had his outbursts, but never so seriously! 

Alexander was still in the room when John and Tench came inside, and he jumped when he saw John in the mirror of the vanity. He moved out of his chair before John could get upset at him too, and the star started to clean his face and hair before he addressed him. Tench was left to give Alex a pleading look for him to do something, but he wasn't quite sure what he could do. Nobody was. 

John scrubbed his face and hair clean and began to strip off his jacket and crop top and clean off the excessive sweat on his body with the corner of a towel. He didn't bother with a shower. Once he was clean there, Alex carefully picked up deodorant and handed it to him, which John took with a glare that said 'only because you said I smell bad'. He smeared it around his neck and underarms with too much aggression, and then tossed the container back onto the counter. He grabbed some sweatpants from the rack nearby and both of the other men in the room looked away as he changed his pants. Neither cared to see whether or not he was wearing boxers or not, as Lafayette had told Alex earlier when he was in the dressing room that John often neglected them. 

When he was done and simply laying in his chair, he groaned and held his head in his hands. "Alex." 

The reporter looked back at him. "Yes?" 

"Get me some vodka." 

Alex didn't move, and John looked up to shoot him a look through the mirror. 

"Now." 

"Why?" 

"Why the fuck do you think? I just got sick in the trash after a fucking show! I need to wash my goddamn mouth out! Get me some vodka, you fuckin'--!" He started to go off before he caught himself and stopped. He tried to calm down and then turned back to look at him properly. "Get me some vodka, _please_." 

Alex nodded and mumbled good luck to Tench before he left, and the photographer was left in the room with John. 

"So, the pictures?" Tench prompted and stepped to John's side, using his camera to pull up the pictures he had taken. "I took around two hundred, but some might be blurry, so I need you to tell me what to keep and what to throw out. I tried to get flattering angles for you because you said--" 

"Yeah, yeah. Relax. I won't yell at you. Just show me the pics." 

 

When Alex returned a few minutes later with an unopened bottle of some high-class Russian Vodka with an unintelligible label, he knocked politely on the door before he came inside. Tench opened the door for him with a pleased smile and closed it behind him. John was apparently calmed down now, oggling over the pictures that the photographer had taken. 

"Here, J. Vodka, just as you asked," Alex politely hummed and set it on the countertop. 

"Mm, thanks, Alex. You're a doll, 'n' I hope you know this," John cooed and Alex bit back the horrible feeling on his tongue from earlier in the day when John had kissed him and tainted his mouth with the taste of cherry moonshine. 

"Do you mind if I Livestream?" 

"Nah, I'm not gonna let the VIPs back anyway, so go on ahead. Do ya thing," he said as he scrolled through the pictures. He pointed at one particularly bright one and turned to Tench. "Tilly, I like this one. This one's best. Send this one." 

"You aren't done looking yet. You're only halfway. There's other good ones." 

"Mmm, I like this one." 

"Keep going." 

As they talked, Alex set up his laptop on a clear space on the counter and positioned it to put all three of them in the frame. He wanted to show them John in all of his post-show glory, including the figure he cut when he wasn't wearing a shirt. The stream started and immediately people jumped on. 

"Hello again, everyone! I'm back and I'm here in the dressing room of The Artisr with Tench, a photographer, and the man himself!" Alex introduced and Tench waved hesitantly. John didn't look up. "We just got done with the Atlanta show and I'm sure we'll be off to Alabama, I think Montgomery? We'll be off there soon. So, uhm... If you enjoyed tonight's show, we'll be coming to Alabama soon." 

Comments were pouring in, and views were off the charts. 

"John, people are asking if you'll move and show off your abs," Alex laughed and turned to face him. John looked up at him with a smirk. 

"Oh, they are?" He asked and handed the camera back to Tench to stretch in his seat, showing off all the muscles he usually hid under a shirt. It was a _look_. 

"Mmm, look at that, everyone, a few words and he does whatever you say," Alex blushed and said to the stream. 

Comments were filled with hearts, people asking for more, and people asking questions. 

"John, someone wants to know if you're currently involved with anyone? I'm assuming they mean romantically or sexually." 

"Pfft, hell no. Havin' a dry spell, I guess. Guess ya could say I'm on my sex period," he flashed a smirk at Alex and then at the camera. "I'd love to have some action, though. The ladies in the VIP places coulda given me a time, I'm sure, but nah. I'm not gettin' a relationship yet. Maybe I'll find some twink in 'Bama to fuck." 

"Alabama won't give you shit. It's all incest," Tench mumbled from his place at John's side. 

"Aww, then do you wanna be my pillow prince tonight, Tilly?" John stretched again and flashed a cocky smile, obviously trying to convince him. 

Tench flushed a deep pink. He tried to produce an answer, but he could only stammer. 

"Pillow prince?" Alex looked confused and felt a bit offended at the sight of John flirting with Tench when just hours ago, he was falling over himself to get in Alex's pants. 

"What? Did you think I was a bottom?" John scoffed and rolled his eyes at Alex. 

"No, but I... I'm not sure what I thought!" 

"Awh, my boys are getting all flushed!" He laughed and grabbed the bottle of vodka from the counter and started to drink. "You're all too easy." 

The computer was practically malfunctioning, at this point lagging, with the sheer number of likes, comments, shares, and other what-nots going on. People screaming in the comments, key smashing, objecting, and hell, even egging them on. It was chaos that Alex had never seen before, and he liked it. He felt a sense of pride knowing that this was _his_ stream. _His_ job. _His_ stream was getting promoted. 

"Mmm, Alex, be a doll and get me something to eat, yeah?" John asked and had a look in his eyes that meant trouble. 

"Well, uh, this is my stream and I don't wanna leave them..." He said unsurely. 

"Ah, then just shut it off." 

"I guess that's fair. Well, you all heard him! I'm gonna go, but keep a lookout for new streams soon! John will have more shows and more to do, so I'll see you all soon!" Alex said and shut off the stream. He moved the computer to his bag and started to leave. 

Once he was gone, John sent Tench a look. 

"So, Tilly. About the 'Pillow Prince' thing. May I have an answer?" He hummed and sipped on his vodka, a hand resting near Tench's thigh and his fingers curling and uncurling, wanting to touch him but not without permission. 

"As long as it doesn't mean anything for emotions," Tench gave in to his temptations and agreed. 

"I won't let Fitz know anything about it, okay Tilly?" John smiled. 

"Okay. You promise?" 

"He knows that my sex life doesn't mean anything. We're just friends, y'know? You'll just be my bed buddy through 'Bama and then when we get to Mississippi, you can go off and do what you want," John wrapped a hand around Tench's thigh and offered him his vodka bottle. The shorter of the two denied it and put his camera down. 

John took the opportunity now that Tench didn't have the fragile tech on him to lead him down onto his lap. 

"You'll be okay, right?" John checked and let the vodka bottle lean against the armrest of his chair. 

"Yeah. You aren't my first, after all," Tench responded and tried shifting himself in his lap to be more comfortable. 

"I'm glad. I don't do firsts." 

 

Alexander found the door locked when he came back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please have a wonderful day and drink some water. Do a small task around the house, just to feel accomplished. I wish you well. 
> 
> Have a fantastic holiday season, lovelies! --Jack


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